


Ghosts

by Dark_Sinestra



Series: DS9: Sub-Prime [17]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Matchmaking, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stalking, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Sinestra/pseuds/Dark_Sinestra
Summary: Chief O'Brien is pushed to the edge of sanity by an unfair alien criminal sentence, and Julian is forced to cope with and try to treat him during the aftermath. Garak finds himself shadowed by an unwelcome reminder of his checkered past, and Leeta moves toward some uncomfortable realizations.





	Ghosts

**Part I**

_Julian  
Private Quarters_  
   
Julian was tired of playing Kotra, but his opponent was relentless. He had already defeated her at three games. It wasn't enough. She rallied for a fourth. He didn't have the heart to let on that she had already engaged a losing strategy just five moves in. Leeta was determined to impress Garak at their next match. Julian was the unfortunate training partner she expected to get her there. He welcomed the computer's impassive announcement that he had a secure transmission coming in on his private channel. “I'll take it in the bedroom,” he said, shooting Leeta an apologetic look. She shrugged cheerfully and picked up the PADD of strategies she had been studying.  
   
Kira's worried face popped up on screen as soon as Julian activated the connection. “I'm sorry to bother you at home,” she said brusquely, “but something happened to Chief O'Brien on the Argrathi homeworld that's going to require your immediate attention once we return.”  
   
Julian stiffened slightly. “You're not expected back for another five days,” he said. “Will you be arriving sooner?”  
   
She shook her head, pressing her lips to a thin line. “No, but I wanted to give you all the time I could to study the Argrathi method of prison sentencing. They're experts in mind control and mental manipulation. Chief O'Brien was imprisoned on a trumped up charge of espionage. By the time I realized what had happened, they already had him hooked up to one of their machines.” She ran pale fingers swiftly through her tousled hair, an impatient gesture.  
   
“Slow down, Major,” Julian said, unconsciously leaning forward toward the screen. “What machines? What have they done?”  
   
“Instead of incurring the cost of actual imprisonment, they create false memories. I don't know how they did it, but they created twenty years worth of memories of incarceration in just a few hours. He's sleeping right now. Julian, he's really...shaken. He reminds me of people I've met from Gallitep.”  
   
He nodded slowly, grimacing. “I'll contact their homeworld and see what information I can get them to share with me, and I'll try to dig up as much research on their methods and prisoners as I can. Do what you can to keep him calm and comfortable for the duration of the trip. If you need me for anything, don't hesitate to contact me before your arrival. I don't care what time it is.”  
   
“Will do,” she said with a terse nod. “Kira out.”  
   
He stared at the dark screen with the Starfleet emblem for a few moments before shaking himself out of his surprise at the news. He hoped that the technology worked as some sort of bundled implant that could be excised whole-cloth. Otherwise, it could be a very messy situation. Standing, he crossed to the bedroom door and stuck his head out. “Leeta?” he said. “I hate to be rude and kick you out, but I have an emergency on my hands. I'm afraid I'm going to be tied up for the rest of the week.”  
   
Her pleasant look shifted to concern. “It's nothing terrible, I hope?” she asked uncertainly.  
   
“I hope not,” he said with equal uncertainty, “but for now, I just don't know.”  
   
“I'll tell Garak dinner is canceled,” she offered.  
   
“There's no reason you can't go. Please send him my apologies, and let him know it's work, would you?”  
   
She nodded and quickly put the Kotra board away. By the time she left, he was already in the process of trying to pull up everything he could find on the Argrathi prison system. He didn't want to contact the aliens completely blind, in case they attempted to deceive him. He could already tell this was going to be a very long five days.  
   
_Garak  
The Promenade_  
   
Garak had a shadow that had nothing to do with the uncomfortably bright lighting of the station's shopping strip. She had been following him off and on for a few days now. He knew that the situation was an inevitability. All he hadn't known was how long it would take for it to start. Doubtless, she believed that she was stealthy. He did nothing to disabuse her of the notion, continuing to pick through the produce at the small Bajoran stall, squeezing this, smelling that, haggling over the price of a stickle pear that seemed to him to be just on the wrong side of ripeness.  
   
He left the stall with his cloth bag nicely bulging and moved further down to the Bolian owned liquor store. The alien was in a price war with Quark which showed no sign of stopping any time soon, something that benefited everyone else. His shadow made her way to a jewelry shop across the way and cut a swift glance over her shoulder at him. Feigning obliviousness, Garak took his time selecting spring wine for Leeta and a bottle of Lissepian vikta, something that he and Julian had discovered was a decent compromise between his favored kanar and the doctor's scotch.  
   
Just as he was on the verge of paying for his purchases, he found he had yet more attention, but Leeta made no effort to hide her interest, approaching him directly and stepping to his side. “Oh, fire,” she said with faint irritation. “I hoped I'd catch you before you went through all this trouble. Julian got a work call. It's just us tonight.”  
   
Smiling slightly, Garak put back the bottle of vikta, much to the Bolian's annoyance. “Your timing wasn't entirely in error,” he said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”  
   
“He's always closed lipped about his patients,” she replied. “Still, whatever it is, I think it's bad. He said he's going to be out of commission for the rest of the week.”  
   
Garak mulled this and absently offered her the bag containing the wine. He could think of nothing obvious on the station that would require such effort on the doctor's part. However, he could readily admit that there was much of what Julian did that went beyond the scope of his attention. He paid for the purchase and gave her his arm. There was no longer any sign of the Dukat girl. Either she found somewhere to hide and observe or became paranoid at the prospect of another set of eyes and fled. “You and I will fare quite well this evening, I believe,” he said airily. “Have you been practicing your Kotra?”  
   
_Julian  
Docking Ring_  
   
Julian went through a mental checklist while waiting for the runabout bringing Miles back to the station to dock. The infirmary staff knew where to be and what to expect. He had consulted with Counselor Telnorri and set up a regular schedule optimized for sufferers of traumatic stress. He had also spoken with Keiko and managed to persuade her not to try to see her husband right away as well as briefing the command staff and keeping them at bay. His research and contact with the Argrathi Authority had not left him feeling optimistic about Miles' prognosis. The proof would be in the tests, of course, but he steeled himself for long-term complications and the challenge of a recalcitrant patient who would probably be averse to almost every recommendation he had for dealing with the trauma. He knew Miles.  
   
The light on the airlock panel shifted from red to green, and the large round door rolled back to reveal the major and Miles in the corridor. Julian narrowed his eyes slightly. Miles had a hand on one of the bulkheads, his expression one of quiet disbelief. He called to get his attention and a moment later found himself the recipient of a tight bear hug. Kira took the opportunity to make herself scarce. He could hardly blame her, knowing that spending five days cooped up with the chief in this state had to have been an incredibly uncomfortable experience for her. The two weren't particularly close, and she wasn't exactly known for being demonstratively empathetic at the best of times.  
   
He led Miles to the infirmary, explaining to him along the way why no one else had been there to greet him. He was pleased to see that his friend took every precaution he had taken so far on his behalf in the spirit in which it was intended, to spare him discomfort and keep him from being overwhelmed. If anything, he seemed relieved not to have to face Keiko or the captain yet. Before he even had the man on one of the biobeds he was deeply concerned. Miles' demeanor, the way his eyes flicked and shifted like those of a trapped animal, the way he shrank away from anyone else they passed on the Promenade all spoke of stress and trauma.  
   
Initial scans confirmed everything he had been told directly and discovered on his own. The memories may have been time compressed, but they were very real. Miles had strong neural connections consistent with years worth of stress and harsh experiences. His GABA, enkephalin, and endorphins were all low while he had high levels of cortisol and norepinephrine. To his relief, Miles' hippocampus was unchanged, although Julian knew if they couldn't get a handle on his stress response to his perceived experiences, he could suffer long-term damage and even develop post traumatic stress disorder, if he didn't already have it.  
   
While he scanned the readouts, he asked him simple questions about his experiences. He wanted to know what he was dealing with. He knew he had to keep things light and upbeat for now. More in depth questioning could be handled by Counselor Telnorri. Twenty years of solitary confinement sounded like torture enough to Julian without privation or beatings. He shored all his misgiving away and presented a positive front. Much of Miles' recovery would be up to Miles himself. It didn't mean he wouldn't need the understanding and support of his friends and family every step of the way.  
   
“All right,” he said, “I've finished with my initial scans. I'd appreciate it if you'd just lie back and rest here for a short while. I'm going to need to compile some of the data and conduct a more thorough set of tests. I notice you're favoring your right arm, but I haven't been able to detect any sign of injury.”  
   
“I thought it was broken,” Miles said, still seemingly not quite able to believe that everything he experienced took place over a matter of hours, not two decades.  
   
Julian nodded. “Then it's natural that your brain developed alternate pathways to help you deal with the disability. Like I said, just make yourself comfortable. When I'm done here, I'd like to go get Keiko, if you feel like you'd be up to the company. She's worried.”  
   
Miles nodded and prodded at his arm with his left hand. Julian left him to his inspection, instructing one of the nurses to put the engineer through a simple reaction test. He didn't have far to go, as Keiko was waiting for him on the second level of the Promenade, exactly where he had asked her to be. He hated to add stress on top of her pregnancy, yet there was no way he could lie to the woman. There was nothing he could do for Miles short of conventional therapy. There was simply no way to erase those memories without erasing all of his memories, and that was something he wouldn't even consider.  
   
She took the news with the stoicism he had come to expect from her. Miles might complain about her from time to time. Privately, Julian felt that they were a good match. She balanced her husband's hot temper and impulsiveness with a solid grounding and practicality that seemed nearly unshakable. He hoped that she was as unflappable as she seemed to be, for she was going to need every bit of it to see the marriage through in the months to come. He wished that he had better news to give her. It was hard to see a friend going through something so unspeakably terrible and have so little with which to help him. He hoped that he was right about how strong and stubborn the engineer could be as he reassured the slight woman at his side.  
   
“I asked him if he was ready to see you, and he said yes,” he said, pausing and putting a light hand to her upper arm. “Are you ready to see him?”  
   
She raised her mirror dark eyes and met his gaze squarely. “He's my husband,” she said simply. “Of course I'm ready to be there for him.”  
   
He nodded and gave a light squeeze, releasing her, and turning to lead the way back down to the infirmary. When they paused in the doorway of the exam room, he thought he saw a flash of fear in Miles' eyes. It faded quickly, and Julian retreated to give the couple their privacy. He tried to distract himself by going over some lab results from another patient, but the situation weighed heavily upon his mind.  
   
A few minutes later, Keiko's voice from the doorway behind him caught his attention. “Is it all right if I take him home, now?” she asked.  
   
He noticed her dark lashes were wet and looked away, feeling oddly as though he was intruding upon her privacy. “Of course,” he said. “Just remind him that he has an appointment with Counselor Telnorri first thing in the morning, and Keiko? If you need me for anything at all, call. I don't care how late it is.”  
   
“Thank you, Julian,” she said, naked gratitude in her small, tentative smile. “I will.”  
   
_Garak  
Garak's Clothiers_  
   
The tailor knew he should have gone home over an hour ago. He busied himself with small things that could have waited until the next day, partially out of curiosity, to see if the Dukat girl would wander by his shop doors yet again and partially out of paranoia. Just because she was more obvious than she seemed to think she was didn't mean she couldn't get lucky and be dangerous. Had her father put her up to this? Was she tormenting him deliberately? He could take nothing for granted when it came to a Dukat. He knew it all too well from hard experience.  
   
He saw Julian approaching well before he crossed his threshold. It had been a long time since he had seen the man look so worn and lost. Brow ridges dipping in concern, he shut down his computer system for the night and beckoned him further inside. “You look dreadful,” he said. “I was about to head home. Would you like to join me?”  
   
“I don't want to impose,” the doctor said, but his hopeful look belied the words. He obviously needed the company.  
   
“It's hardly an imposition if there's an invitation,” Garak said lightly. “Just let me straighten up in the back, and we'll be on our way.” There was little left to straighten, habit a hard thing to break when it came to his closing rituals. “Done,” he said as he returned from his stock room. He locked up, and the two of them walked side by side toward the turbolift.  
   
“You're working late,” Julian observed. “I wouldn't have even thought to try to find you there except that I saw the lights were still on. I didn't think you had another shipment due for at least two weeks.”  
   
The Cardassian felt quiet satisfaction in the knowledge that the man was keeping tighter track of his schedule than he had in the past. He shrugged and stepped onto the turbolift. “You know how it can be,” he said. “Sometimes small tasks seem to consume one's time and attention, perhaps more than is always warranted.” Julian nodded, accepting that at face value. Garak realized he must be very tired indeed. “What of you? Will we be seeing more or less of you now that the chief has returned?”  
   
“What do you know of it?” the doctor asked warily.  
   
“Not much,” Garak replied, shrugging again. “He's only a topic of interest insofar as he manages to affect you.”  
   
Julian smiled faintly. “It's good to see that some things don't change easily,” he said. He leaned his shoulder against Garak's and stayed that way until the two of them disembarked.  
   
Garak insisted that Julian simply sit and make himself comfortable while he prepared the table and some food. He felt more relaxed in his own quarters where the girl couldn't spy so easily. He resolved to spend more time with friends, as she seemed to leave him alone when he was socializing. He watched the doctor pick at his food. Whatever was going on with O'Brien must have been serious. Julian's appetite was a reliable barometer of his mood. The less and more slowly he ate, the worse the circumstances. Perhaps distraction was in order. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been conspiring with Leeta to improve her Kotra strategy,” he said, taking a bite of his sem'hal stew.  
   
Julian snorted a soft half laugh. “If anyone is the conspirator, it's Leeta. It's just about all she wants to do in our spare time. You've created a monster. She's bound and determined to be able to beat you at it one of these days. I'm merely a rung on the ladder to get there.”  
   
He found himself genuinely amused. “She could do worse in her choice of teachers, but I would advise her to pick someone who has beaten me if that's truly her goal.”  
   
“Very funny,” the doctor said, shoving a bite of food down. “No one on this station has beaten you to my knowledge. What's she to do? Contact Cardassia Prime, look up one of your old associates, and ask for a lesson or two?”  
   
“If she can find one of my old associates, she won't need lessons at Kotra,” he riposted more lightly than he felt at that turn in conversation. It was hard to find anyone from the old days these days, for any reason.  
   
Unexpectedly, Julian reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “How are things on Cardassia?” he asked.  
   
Garak shook his head, genuinely unable to answer that question intelligently. “We're both better conversationalists than this. Between my skirting your doctor/patient confidentiality and your asking me about things of which I have little knowledge and less inclination to speak, I'm surprised we're not both already done with our food.” He was gratified to get a more enthusiastic chuckle from that and further gratified to see the man focus more on his food. He worried at times that he was entirely too thin. Age wasn't helping.  
   
“You know there's a springball tournament coming up in the not too distant future. From what I understand, the major intends to compete. Anyone asked you on a date yet?” Julian asked archly.  
   
It was Garak's turn to snort. “I already happen to know it falls on a work night for Leeta. You don't have to pretend I'm your first choice for such an outing.”  
   
“Who's pretending?” he asked, his large eyes twinkling.  
   
“Certainly not you,” Garak sniffed. “It was ridiculously easy to see. As it happens, my calendar is free. Am I to understand that we're coming out in the open, then? You're no longer intent on hiding from your cohorts the fact that we have an unusual arrangement?”  
   
Julian colored faintly, the reaction intriguing the Cardassian. Had he not considered it at all, or had he, and he felt uncertain about it? “I haven't been hiding things, per se,” he said evasively.  
   
Garak shook his head. “No, of course not,” he agreed in such a way that conveyed the exact opposite. “It's not that I mind discretion. Far from it. However, you called this a date. The implications of expected behavior are different than that of an outing.”  
   
Julian surprised him for the second time in the night, standing and circling to draw him to his feet. He allowed it, only to have arms settled about his waist and his nose nuzzled lightly. At such close proximity, Julian's features blurred to soft, tawny indistinctness. “I want you to act however you want to act,” he said, turning his head slightly to caress cheek to cheek.  
   
He sighed as he felt himself being disarmed, any intention of being contrary fleeing in the face of the easy affection. It was something he still hadn't quite figured out how to combat. No Cardassian would ever move from slightly charged conversation to something so blatantly generous. Rejecting it outright would be too harsh, and stiffening and receiving it sullenly ungracious. He suspected the man was aware of all of this and took secret delight in how he succumbed. He tangled loose fingers in the dark waves and pressed the doctor's head to his shoulder. “What about cleaning up?” he rumbled, the only thing that came to his swiftly addling senses.  
   
“Later,” Julian said with lips already at his neck.  
   
It was a persuasive argument, persuasive enough to forestall protest and have him crab walking them both toward his sofa. They lingered there for quite some time, toying and teasing, and taking each other to a disreputable state of undress without fully disrobing. He enjoyed these moods of the doctor's, even if it meant that the man was fighting some internal demons and in need of comfort the best way that Garak knew how to provide.  
   
He slid a hand further down Julian's unzipped uniform pants, cupping him through his thin underwear, and gave an expert flick of thumb nail. The man let loose a gratifying moan and twisted his hips. Garak's comm chirped. He ignored it in favor of more pressing distractions, but by the third chirp even Julian was twisting his head to look over at the console. “What if it's important?” the doctor asked breathlessly.  
   
Grunting under his breath, Garak pushed up from his partial recline over his lover and arranged his tunic. By the time he reached the comm, he was comported enough to pass all but the most intense scrutiny. Sadly, there was little he could do about his darkened, swollen ridges. Perhaps whoever it was wouldn't be aware of the significance. “Yes?” he said sharply, allowing the call through.  
   
Keiko O'Brien jerked back slightly, frowning. “I'm really sorry to disturb you in your quarters, Garak,” she said cautiously, “but the computer said Julian is there, and I haven't been able to raise him on his badge.”  
   
Had they accidentally deactivated it? He glanced swiftly at Julian out of her line of sight and watched the man hastily dressing. The doctor's sudden frown of consternation told him all he needed to know. “It seems to be malfunctioning,” he said smoothly. “He's here, though. I can give you privacy if you need to speak to him.”  
   
“Yes, please,” she said, stress tightening her almond eyes at the edges.  
   
Garak stepped away and quickly finger combed the front of Julian's hair. Patting him on the shoulder, he retreated to his bedroom where he shamelessly activated the smaller comm and tapped into the feed. He closed the door so that Julian wouldn't overhear an echo of his own conversation with O'Brien's wife.  
   
“I wasn't sure if I should contact you or the counselor,” Keiko said, “but I'm worried sick.”  
   
“Tell me what's going on,” Julian said. Although Garak couldn't see his face through the feed, he could imagine the crease of concern between his brows.  
   
“Tonight at dinner, he kept cutting his food into smaller and smaller pieces and tucked most of them into a napkin. He told me he was saving it. He said there were times he went weeks without food.” She swallowed heavily, a flash of anger in her eyes behind unshed tears. “We went to bed early. I woke up only to find him curled up on the floor against the wall. What did those monsters do to my husband?”  
   
“I don't know,” Julian said, his voice tense. “Hopefully I'll know more once he has had a few sessions with Counselor Telnorri. Keep in mind that he's fighting what seem to him like twenty years worth of habits. They're not going to go away overnight. If he's sleep walking, I can give him something to prevent it. Try to find out in the morning if he recalls getting out of bed. Above all, be patient, and try to be as normal with him as you can be. Yes, the behavior is abnormal in context of his current life, but in his mind, everything he's doing helped to keep him alive for a very long time.”  
   
Keiko nodded and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a small white handkerchief. “I'm sorry I freaked out,” she said tremulously.  
   
“You didn't freak out,” Julian assured her. “This is a frightening time for all of us. I'm glad you called me. As much as I hate to say this...” he hesitated for a moment. Garak wasn't surprised to hear what he had to add. “If he gets violent, I want you to call security as well as me.”  
   
“Do you really think he'd hurt me or Molly?” she asked, looking incredulous.  
   
“Not intentionally,” he said hastily. “But if he has a panic attack or a flashback, he might not even be aware of what he's doing. Better safe than sorry. You know that Odo and his men would never hurt Miles. They know how to deal with these sorts of situations.”  
   
She nodded more hesitantly this time. “All right,” she said finally. “I hope it doesn't come to that. I'd better go. I don't want him to wake up and find himself alone in the bedroom. Please tell Garak I'm sorry for disturbing him. I never would've tried to contact him directly if it hadn't been urgent.”  
   
“I'm sure he understands,” he said, “but I'll tell him anyway. Try to get some rest, Keiko. You're going to need it.”  
   
“I will,” she said, looking a bit more bolstered by the conversation. “Good night, Julian, and thanks again.”  
   
Garak cut the feed first and pursed his lips. He knew enough about implanted memories from his work in the Obsidian Order to know that O'Brien was dealing with a particularly nasty form of mental manipulation. No wonder Julian seemed so stressed. As his friend as well as his doctor, he had his hands full. He felt nothing at all for the engineer, but he did find himself concerned for Julian, particularly if things went badly with his patient. He quietly determined not to be quite as irascible as he knew he could be. He'd just have to be careful not to go too far in the other direction, or the man would realize he knew far more than he let on.  
   
The bedroom door hissed open, and Julian stepped through. “I'm sorry, Elim,” he said. “I...don't much feel like picking up where we left off. If you want me to leave...”  
   
Garak tsked and strode forward, quite content to take things into hand. “Nonsense,” he said. “You haven't spent a full night here in over a month. I think it's time to buck that trend and get some sleep. No arguments.” He deftly stripped Julian of his uniform and tossed him an old pair of his own pajamas that hadn't fit him for some time now. He knew that the man slept better in the company of another, and he also knew he was more likely to get actual sleep with him than he would with Leeta who always got off work in the early morning hours and would run the risk of awakening him as she readied for bed.  
   
“Every time I expect you're going to give me trouble over something, you seem to take perverse delight in proving me wrong,” Julian said, smiling wearily and dressing in the soft garments. The neck fetchingly exposed his collarbones and the upper part of his chest. Garak enjoyed the view shamelessly without making any moves.  
   
The tailor chuckled. “Few things please me more than proving you wrong, something that is fortunately all too easy. Now, if you're done with your backhanded flattery, I think I'd like to have a bath before joining you in the bed.” There was a matter of unfulfilled desire that he wasn't entirely certain wouldn't cause trouble in his sleep if he didn't deal with it beforehand, but he certainly didn't intend to tell that to Julian.  
   
Julian nodded and climbed into bed, covering himself haphazardly with the blanket. “That's fine. I may already be asleep by the time you get here.” Garak thought that very likely. “Before I forget, Keiko wanted me to tell you again how sorry she was to disturb you.”  
   
“Considering I'm the one who probably disabled your badge, I'd say it's only fair,” he said with a wave of his hand. Once more, Julian took him easily at face value. He frowned very slightly after turning away. The man was too tired, allowing himself to get sloppy. While Garak might delight in catching him flat footed and making things generally difficult, he had no intention of hurting him. He couldn't say the same for everyone on the station. He only just refrained from pointing it out, shaking his head and closing the bathroom door behind himself for privacy.  
   
_Julian  
The Infirmary_  
   
Julian arrived for work to find Counselor Telnorri waiting for him. “Ah, Doctor Bashir,” the older man said pleasantly and stepped forward to greet him, “there you are. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?”  
   
“Of course,” Julian said with a nod, gesturing the tall, slender counselor ahead of him toward his office. He offered him a seat and had the computer close the door. “Has something happened with Miles? I've been trying to catch up to him lately, but he seems very busy.”  
   
The bearded man frowned, a shadow passing over gray eyes. “Yes, that is his excuse. I was loath to do this, but I feel that you should know that he has skipped his past ten sessions with me. Now, I understand that he truly is a busy man, but as you well know, he has full latitude to take the time off that he needs for his counseling sessions.”  
   
Julian frowned and gave a soft sigh. “I was afraid this would happen,” he said heavily. “Miles is...stubborn, to say the least. Have you approached Captain Sisko about this?” he asked.  
   
Telnorri shook his head, the silver hair at his temples catching the light in contrast to his dark crown. “Not yet. I wanted to give Miles, and you, the courtesy of approaching you first. If you can get through to him, we can avoid a heavy handed play from brass. I feel that in his current state, such a thing could be detrimental to his overall mental well being.”  
   
“I concur,” Julian said. “I'll talk to him. If I can't get through to him, let me be the one to approach the captain.”  
   
The man raised dark brows. “Are you sure? I know the two of you are friends. Such a move could damage your friendship, possibly beyond repair.”  
   
“I know,” he said with a grim nod. “However, it's more important that Miles feels that he can trust you. If you're the one who goes to the captain, he'll resent you for it. I'd rather he resent me and be able to tell you about it than the other way around. Counseling is not my area of expertise.”  
   
“He's fortunate to have you as a friend, Doctor,” the man said, rising and offering his hand.  
   
Julian stood and shook it. “These days I'm afraid I don't feel like much of one, given how much he has been avoiding me, but thank you for saying so, and thank you for approaching me with this before talking to Captain Sisko.”  
   
“We all have the same goal,” Telnorri said, turning and waiting for the door to whoosh open, “getting Miles back to a state of mental well being.”  
   
Unfortunately, no matter how much he wanted to act on the information he had just been given, he didn't have the time. A new respiratory infection was making its rounds through the station, serious enough to require a few hospitalizations and pernicious enough to affect several different species. He stayed busy with new cases all day and a bit past his normal time to get off duty. As soon as he was able, he went searching for the chief. Of course, he had to be in one of the harder to access maintenance conduits. Undeterred, Julian set off after him, not looking forward to what he had to say.  
   
Miles took it even worse than he anticipated. It was difficult not to take his insults personally, despite knowing them for what they were, a distancing tactic. He sat in the close corridor with the angry words still ringing in his ears. _If there was one thing I didn't miss over the last twenty years, it was your smug, superior attitude._  Miles wasn't the first to hurl such an accusation. Was it truly how he came across? All he wanted was to help. If he'd say such things to him, what was he saying to Keiko? Molly? Frowning deeply to himself, he crawled out the way he came and climbed down the access ladder. He was looking forward to the next conversation even less.  
   
Not surprisingly, Captain Sisko was still in his office. It was very rare these days that he was able to get off on time. Julian nodded to the night shifters in ops and walked straight through the wide open doorway leading into the captain's office. “Is this a bad time, Sir?” he asked, pausing just past the threshold.  
   
Sisko had his back to the door, his baseball in hand, rolling it slowly back and forth between fingers and thumb. He glanced at Julian over his shoulder, one scant brow raised. “No, Doctor,” he said, his bass voice a soft rumble. “Come in, and close the door behind you.” Julian did as he was bade and waited to take a seat until Sisko turned to him and gestured. “What can I do for you?”  
   
“It's about Chief O'Brien, Sir,” he said reluctantly. “He has discontinued his therapy, and in my professional opinion, he is unfit for duty. He became very belligerent with me when I confronted him about his treatment, to the point that he made a vague, but I believe sincere, threat against my safety.”  
   
Sisko frowned and leaned forward to set his baseball gently on its stand. He rested his weight on one folded arm and his cheek on his fist. He looked worn. “That's a serious assertion,” he said.  
   
Julian nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said.  
   
“You're making it without qualifiers?” the captain asked.  
   
“Yes, Sir,” Julian said again. “If he doesn't immediately return to therapy...” He tightened his jaw and forced himself to complete the sentence. “I see no choice but to have him forcibly confined to the infirmary until such time that he has recovered sufficiently to be released.”  
   
Sisko sat up straight again and leaned back in his seat, staring briefly at the ceiling. When he looked back to Julian, it wasn't without compassion. “I imagine this is a difficult thing for you to do, Doctor. Chief O'Brien may not appreciate it now, but I believe there will come a time that he will look back on this and see that you had his well being at heart.”  
   
“I hope so, Sir,” Julian said uncomfortably. He knew what he was doing was the right course of action. It didn't stop him from feeling as though he were betraying his friend. Rarely had he known such a divide between his personal and professional life. “I've done everything I know to do to get him to cooperate with Counselor Telnorri and the treatment regimen we've set out for him. We can't afford to give him any more latitude, for his sake and the sake of those around him. His condition is deteriorating rapidly.”  
   
Sisko nodded and stood. “Thank you,” he said. “I'll take it from here. I'll contact you if this intervention doesn't go as planned. I trust you'll do as you've said, have him confined?”  
   
Feeling a bit sick inside, Julian nodded tightly and stood, too. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “I will.”

**Part II**

_Garak  
Quark's Bar_  
   
Operation avoid the Dukat girl was going as planned. Ever since Garak met up with his dinner companion, there was no sign of her. He sat at his table with Rom, the two of them with a good view from the second floor balcony and a solid wall at their backs. The Ferengi seemed to be settling well into his new role as a maintenance worker, having bent Garak's ear for the better part of an hour about his duties and how much he was learning on the job. Leeta worked the Dabo wheel below, and a few other familiar faces came and went in the pursuit of having a good time.  
   
His mind on several different topics at once, Garak threw out one he had been mulling for some time but had yet to give voice until now. “Do you know Chalan Aroya?” he asked abruptly. It wasn't the most graceful conversation transition, he knew. He just wasn't sure how many more times he could hear the words “power couplings” in one night without resorting to painting lurid pictures in his mind.  
   
Rom tipped his head and considered. “I think so,” he said. “Doesn't she own the new Celestial Café?”  
   
“The very one,” Garak said. “She's quite lovely, wouldn't you say?”  
   
Rom frowned slightly. “She looks a lot like Nurse Decla. Didn't you learn your lesson about trying to get too friendly with Bajorans? They don't like your people much, Garak. No offense.”  
   
“She doesn't look anything like Lisane,” Garak retorted, “except for being blonde and Bajoran. At any rate, if it will ease your mind, I'll have you know I'm not looking for that sort of thing from her.”  
   
“Then what?” Rom asked warily, lifting his snail juice for a gulp.  
   
“I was thinking of introducing her to Odo,” he said smoothly.  
   
Rom coughed and set his glass down quickly. It took a few thumps of his fist to his chest to get himself unclogged enough to speak again. “Why would you do that?” he asked.  
   
“Why not?” he asked lightly. “Is she married?”  
   
“No, well...not that I know of, but...Odo? What would Odo do with a fe-male?” Rom asked.  
   
Garak decided he really didn't want to follow that line of thought. He cleared his throat. “Companionship? What's so wrong with the idea? He used to spend quite a bit of time with Major Kira before her relationship with First Minister Shakaar developed.”  
   
“That was for work,” Rom said. “Chalan is nice, I suppose. Brother doesn't like her, though.”  
   
“Your brother doesn't like any competition,” Garak pointed out dryly. “I think it's a good idea, personally. The only thing I haven't been able to decide is how best to do it. She has been very approachable so far. She has even told me she's considering coming in for a fitting and a new dress soon. Do you think it would be too obvious if I just happened to have Odo there at the same time?”  
   
Rom blinked. “You're asking me for fe-male advice?”  
   
Garak sighed to himself. The man had a point. “Never mind,” he said, glancing out once more over the bar crowd. He narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight of O'Brien at the bar. His body language boded trouble.  
   
Rom followed the direction of his gaze and dropped his voice. “Chief O'Brien has been in a bad way lately, ever since he got back from Argrathi space. I haven't experienced it personally, but some of the others have been trying to avoid him. Jaroth said two nights ago he threw an ODN recoupler at him when he accidentally misdiagnosed a relay glitch. Hit him pretty hard in the shoulder.”  
   
Garak nodded absently. He read the threat of violence in the set of the man's hunched shoulders. He shifted his gaze to Quark, too wrapped in what he was doing to notice the trouble brewing so close to him. It was a busy night. He didn't envy a bartender's duties or the danger of constant exposure to the inebriated and discontent. It occurred to him that he could warn the man, but why? He tolerated Quark. He didn't like him. If he was too unobservant to see what was right under his nose, who was Garak to interfere?  
   
O'Brien's move on Quark was sudden, the practiced move of a soldier. He had him by the wrist in a painful pin almost too quickly for the eye to follow. Garak was just as quick to seize Rom's forearm and shake his head. “No,” he said. “You'll make it worse.”  
   
“But...” Rom said, clearly dismayed and worried.  
   
“Let security handle it if it gets out of hand,” Garak insisted. “Do you want to jeopardize your standing in your job?” He felt Rom relax under his hold and knew he had talked the fight out of the man.  
   
O'Brien moved away from the bar with his drink and sat at a table. He seemed to be talking to himself.  _No,_  Garak thought shrewdly,  _he seems to be talking to someone next to him. Hallucinating?_  He knew it was possible. Shaking himself from those thoughts, he refocused on Rom. “I believe you'd do well to follow your co-workers' example and avoid the chief in the foreseeable future.”  
   
Rom nodded uneasily. “Do you think Starfleet will protect him and allow him to treat the rest of us like that?”  
   
“I don't know,” Garak said simply. “I don't pretend to understand half of the things they do. They're inconsistent at best, at worst blatantly hypocritical. For all I know, they'll decorate him for getting your brother to work faster.” He was exaggerating, but only somewhat.  
   
Rom frowned. “That wasn't funny,” he said sullenly.  
   
“It wasn't intended to be,” Garak assured him. “Do you wish to go check on your brother now? It seems the worst has passed.”  
   
The Ferengi considered before shaking his head. “He wouldn't appreciate it, and I can tell by looking at him he's all right. If he wants to talk about it, he'll come to me later. I need to be getting on shift soon anyway.” He took a few more bites of his food and stood. “Thanks for inviting me for dinner. I've missed talking since going on the night shift.”  
   
Garak smiled slightly and inclined his head pleasantly. “I've missed our lunches, as well, but I'm pleased for your finding work better suited to your talents.”  
   
Rom beamed. “Me, too. I haven't told Nog yet. I want to surprise him.”  
   
Garak's smile widened at the thought. “I imagine he'll be quite surprised indeed. Do let me know.”  
   
“Maybe I'll have a dinner when he visits, and you can see for yourself. I could invite Leeta, too.”  
   
“She may not come if Julian isn't also invited,” Garak prompted.  
   
“Well,” Rom frowned, “I'll have to think about that. I'll talk to you again soon. Enjoy the rest of your night.”  
   
“I intend to try,” Garak said and watched him retreat. He had made so much progress since attaining the new job. It was almost like talking to a different person. He supposed he had known on some level from the beginning that Rom had much more in him than a surface glance revealed, or he would never have tried to get to know him better. It was gratifying to see his progression.  
   
Chief O'Brien left, looking furtive and unsettled. Garak watched him all the way out the door and then turned his attention to Leeta as she approached from the circular stairwell. He allowed himself the simple enjoyment of her grace without taking the thought any further and gestured at Rom's recently vacated chair. “Break time?” he asked.  
   
“Yes,” she said, nodding and taking the seat gratefully. She shifted in the chair, and Garak glanced downward, seeing that she had kicked her heels off. “I can't believe how busy it is tonight,” she said.  
   
“I was just thinking it was quite a crowd. I doubt I'll linger much longer. The noise level bothers me.”  
   
“You're lucky you can leave,” she teased him lightly. Her expression shifted to something more serious. “You know, I'm sure you've already noticed this, but just in case you haven't...that half Cardassian girl...Gul Dukat's daughter? I've seen her lingering around your shop a lot lately, even when you're not there. Do you know her?”  
   
That was something he didn't know, that the girl had been paying his shop visits after hours. He would have to break out some of his sweepers and check for bugs and things even less benign. He let none of his concern show, schooling his features to mild curiosity. “Really?” he asked. “No, I know of her, of course, but I don't know her. Perhaps she's window shopping?”  
   
“Maybe,” Leeta said, neither sounding nor looking convinced. She broke into a smile a moment later. “Maybe she finds you handsome and mysterious. You're the only Cardassian on the station after all. That has to be a powerful draw for her.”  
   
Garak laughed aloud. “My dear, I believe you highly overestimate my appeal.”  
   
“Don't be so sure,” she said, a teasing glimmer in her eyes and the curve of her lips. “Anyway,” she slipped back into her shoes and stood, “I thought you should know. Maybe you should introduce yourself to her. It couldn't hurt anything. I imagine she's lonely. There aren't many Bajorans who'd have much to do with her thanks to her father. I've been meaning to introduce myself, but I never seem to be able to catch her at a good time. I see her either on my way to work or halfway through shift.”  
   
“I'll take your advice under consideration,” he said, offering her a bland smile and having no intention of any such thing. He felt more than a little alarm at the thought of her skulking about his shop when the Promenade was quiet and dark. Had she also been outside his quarters? There was no way to know. His fingers itched for his phaser. “If you manage to introduce yourself first, tell her to drop in during store hours if she's interested in a purchase.” Perhaps with a little prompting, he could force her hand without her being any the wiser.  
   
Leeta leaned close enough for him to smell her perfume and have his cheek tickled by her hair. “And if she's interested in something else?” she asked, a wicked tone to her whisper.  
   
“Then I trust you'll give me ample warning,” he said, leaning back and fixing her with a brilliant blue gaze. “She may be lovely, but she's little more than a child. Please, don't encourage anything...untoward.”  
   
She relented her tease and gave him a warmer smile. “I wouldn't dream of doing anything of the like,” she said sincerely. “But honestly, don't be too surprised if it turns out to be something like that on her part. I've seen the signs before, and it looks as though she has them all.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You don't have to understand it for it to be possible. I had best get back to work before Quark starts bellowing. I saw what happened earlier. He's going to be in a simply lovely mood the rest of the night.” She rolled her eyes expressively.  
   
He watched her retreat and pondered what she said. It didn't seem very likely to him. He couldn't blame her for what she thought. The Bajorans were an open, straightforward people on the whole. It was part of the reason they were so easy for Cardassia to oppress for as long as it did. It would never occur to her that the daughter of someone like Dukat could be a well honed blade primed for a stab. Even Major Kira might be blinded to the true nature of the girl, her natural sympathy for her circumstances preventing her from seeing more sinister intentions. He left payment for his meal and departed the bar, troubled and deep in thought. He resigned himself to getting little sleep that night, as a full sweep of the corridor outside his quarters and the area outside his shop would last well into the early morning hours.  
   
_Julian  
The Infirmary_  
   
“Sir?” the more direct of the two day nurses stepped quickly into the lab very shortly after Miles' angry departure. Worry creased her brow. “I heard shouting. He didn't hurt you, did he?”  
   
“No,” Julian lied. It was true in the way the nurse intended it. Miles hadn't laid a hand on him, but his rage at being relieved of duty by Captain Sisko on Julian's recommendation had led to extremely harsh words. Telnorri's warning came back to haunt him. Was it possible he had broken their friendship beyond repair? He wrestled with the conflicting impulses to follow after the engineer or give him time to cool off. The truth was that despite his superior intellect and ability to react quickly and calmly in a crisis, he wasn't necessarily always as socially adept as he wished to be. He didn't know the right course of action.  
   
“Sir?” the Bajoran woman stepped closer and hesitantly touched his arm.  
   
“I'm fine, really,” he said, offering her a tight smile. “I just...I need a moment, please.” She nodded and retreated. Julian had the computer close the door and turned to the comm. He hoped that Miles was headed home. He hesitated a few minutes more before making the decision to contact Keiko. He took a few deep breaths to comport himself. It would never do to upset her.  
   
She answered on the third chime and offered him a cautious smile. “Julian,” she said, “I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is...everything all right?”  
   
He put on his best pleasant smile. “I was just wondering if Miles was there,” he said. “I'd like to speak to him if he has a moment.”  
   
Her expression darkened. “No, he's not here. He's at work. You know that.”  
   
“I'll just try back later,” he said quickly. “If you do see him, would you please ask him to call me? It's important.” He cut the signal before she could question him further, not wanting to tread on Miles' privacy without his permission. “Computer, where is Chief O'Brien?”  
   
“Unknown,” came the response.  
   
_Of course,_  he thought dourly.  _If he's off duty, he won't be wearing his badge. Damn._  He tried to return to the lab samples he was analyzing, but his heart wasn't in his work. He was deeply worried about Miles. After about twenty minutes, he couldn't help himself. He hailed his quarters again. Keiko was harder to put off the second time, and Miles still wasn't there.  _Where are you?_ he wondered. If anyone could hide on the station, it would definitely be the chief engineer. Just shy of the hour mark, he tried one more time. This time he confided to Keiko that he was worried about the man without specifically telling her why. Every instinct was telling him that things were unraveling with his friend, possibly to a dangerous degree.  
   
After he got off the comm with her, he worried his lower lip between his teeth then put a call through to Odo. “Constable,” he said, “I think I need your help.” He quickly laid out the situation with Miles, the confrontation and his departure, and told him of his concern. “Can you keep an eye out for him on the security feeds? I'm hoping he'll go home. If he doesn't, I'm not sure what he'll do, but I'm concerned for his safety.”  
   
“Do you want me to have a security team on stand-by?” Odo asked.  
   
He considered the option and rejected it. “No. I think that would do more harm than good, but if you find him anywhere he's not supposed to be or see him doing anything he shouldn't be doing, alert me at once, and I'll go to him.”  
   
“Understood,” Odo said, severing the link.  
   
He felt slightly better. He had done everything he could do for the moment. It allowed him to return his focus to his work. He believed he was making progress with the infection plaguing the station and had narrowed down a group of drugs that would not only treat it in the infected but slow the spread. Less than two hours later, Odo's voice grated over his comm badge. “Doctor, you had better get to Cargo Bay Seven right away. Chief O'Brien is wrecking it. Are you sure you don't want back up?”  
   
“I'm sure,” he said, immediately leaving the lab and telling the first nurse he saw that she was in charge of the infirmary until further notice. He hurried out into the crowd on the Promenade and shouldered through. He was able to increase his pace to a brisk jog once he was out of the crowd and turned down a side corridor. He hopped a turbolift and directed it downward.  
   
Odo's voice came to him a second time, taut with urgency. “You had better hurry. He has found a weapon, and I think he means himself harm.”  
   
He felt his heart leap into his throat. The moment the turbolift came to a stop, he darted from the platform and sprinted down the corridor, not bothering to disguise his speed. There was no one there to see him, and it wouldn't have mattered had there been. All he knew was that he had to reach Miles. He tried to get the doors to the bay to open. Apparently, Miles had it on lockdown. He barked out his override code and squeezed through the opening doors without waiting for them to complete their motion. His eyes darted around the trashed bay and lighted on the chief. Although his back was to him, he could see that he had something in hand and was pressing it beneath his chin. “Chief?” he said, willing the panic out of his voice with difficulty.  
   
“Get out of here, Julian,” Miles said harshly.  
   
He held his hands out slowly, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he could hear the persistent thud and the rush of blood in his ears. “You don't want to do this, Chief,” he said, shocked by how calm he sounded. It was almost as though someone else were speaking.  
   
“The hell I don't,” the Irishman grated, shoving the phaser harder into the flesh beneath his jaw.  
   
_Keep talking,_  he told himself.  _You have to keep talking._  He stayed as reasonable and stable as he could, doing his level best to talk the man down. All the while, he kept his eyes locked to Miles' gaze when every instinct screamed at him to watch his hand instead. He approached slowly, and at last the things that he sensed his friend had been holding back on him began to come to light. He listened in horror to Miles' account of his cell mate, Ee'Char, how they had fought, how eventually he had killed him over a misunderstanding about food. The fact that it was nothing more than an artificially created memory meant nothing in the larger scheme of things. The damage to Miles' psyche and self image and his anguish were terribly real. He had no idea if his appeal to reason and his assertion that Miles was still a good man would make a difference. All he could do was to try. He put his heart into the words and willed Miles to believe him with everything he had.  
   
The engineer looked to a point beyond Julian and back to him and slowly lowered the phaser. Carefully and gently, Julian reached for it and took it away. The relief that flooded his body nearly took him down to his knees. He quickly flicked the weapon off with his thumb. Miles' attention remained beyond him a moment more before the man looked back to him and broke down. He held him tightly, using every iota of his self control not to join him in the emotional storm. That had been far too close of a call for comfort. He felt himself shaking from the adrenaline dump, both men carefully sinking to their knees. As he pressed a hand to the back of the curly head of hair, he closed his eyes and silently thanked Odo for his observation skills and his willingness to trust his judgment. He had no doubt that a security team's presence would have spelled complete disaster.  
   
Miles' tears soaked the side of his neck and the shoulder of his uniform. The hard, corrugated plating of the cargo deck bit into his knees. He ignored the discomfort, determined to stay as long as the man needed him. Then he felt tentative lips at his throat and froze entirely, his breath hitching in his chest. “Miles?” he whispered. He felt a firmer kiss in response. “Miles,” he said again more strongly and tightened his fingers in the curls beneath them. “Please, don't do this.”  
   
“You're th' only one who understands me,” the words came low and muffled against his skin, the hot breath tickling.  
   
“That may be,” Julian said softly. How to do this? What to say that wouldn't send the already fragile man into a deadly tailspin? He wished not for the first time that he could be as glib and convincing as Garak, but he knew that no lie would suffice in this situation. “But I don't have those kinds of feelings for you.”  
   
“You could try,” Miles husked thickly.  
   
“Miles,” he said painfully, “you know better.” He pulled back enough to take the man's face between his hands, forcing him to eye contact. “You're the best friend I've ever had, the...the brother I never had. I'd do anything for you...except feign a feeling you want me to have that I don't. It would be cruel to both of us. Please, don't ask me to do that, and don't make me hurt you when I know you're already as low as you've ever been.” He fought the sting of tears. “I don't want to lose you. Don't you understand that?”  
   
The man seemed to shrink in on himself a little, dropping his gaze. “I understand,” he said, nodding. “I don't think I would've ever said anything...except...except I guess I felt like I had nothin' left t' lose.”  
   
“That's not true,” Julian said, refusing to allow him to pull away. He drew him back and held him tighter. “I know it doesn't seem that way right now. You have family and friends who love you. We're going to help get you through this. You will find yourself again. I promise you that.”  
   
“Even after I pulled somethin' so awful?” he asked miserably.  
   
“Do you honestly think I didn't know?” he asked softly. He had his answer in the quiet noise of dismay that greeted his question. “I did, and it never changed anything. It'll take a lot more than that to drive me away.”  
   
They were silent for a long time. Miles finally said, “Thank you, Julian. D' you think you can help me up? My legs have gone t' sleep.”  
   
He tried to comply, only to find his legs no more inclined to be cooperative than O'Brien's. He snorted his consternation. “This may take a while, actually.” Both men looked at one another and found unexpected laughter. It was only then that Julian discovered he believed what he had told his friend. Eventually, things would be OK again.  
   
After stopping by the infirmary to get Miles some new medication for the depression and hallucinations and dropping the man off at his quarters to be with his family, Julian informed his day nurses he wouldn't be returning to work. His near miss with O'Brien had him feeling shaken to his core. He eyed Garak's shop and rejected the prospect. About almost anything else, he could approach the Cardassian with reasonable certainty that he'd be understanding to the best of his ability. He had never been so about Miles. Worse, he might use anything Julian said as ammunition against the engineer.  
   
He shuffled along the corridor to the turbolift and leaned against the back wall as it rose to take him to Leeta's habitat ring. His knees ached still, no worse than the heaviness he felt in his chest. He knew that he was at least partially to blame for the end of what happened. He could have confronted him much earlier about his feelings and put the issue to rest. He could have spared him the humiliation of rejection when he was least prepared to cope with it. He hadn't because he had feared deep down that if he did, he would lose the friendship entirely, that it was only hope that something might develop that kept Miles coming back to him. In some ways, he had been as dishonest with him as he had been initially with Leeta. When had he become such a coward? Had he always been so?  
   
He let himself into her quarters, finding them sepulchral and dark. She was still asleep. At any other time, he might have left instead of disturbing her, but he needed her, needed someone. He couldn't tell her details, bound by doctor/patient confidentiality. If it wasn't one thing constraining him in and keeping him oppressively silent, it was something else. He wondered if his choice of career had a hidden dark side that he was only now coming to see and comprehend, the necessity of secrets conspiring to keep his greatest deeply subsumed.  
   
He didn't need light to find his way into the bedroom. He sat on the side of the bed and listened to the slow, steady rhythm of her soft breaths. His hand hovered momentarily above her bare shoulder before he pulled back and curled on his side atop the covers with his back against hers, hugging himself tightly. He realized that if he awakened her, everything he had inside would spill out messily in violation of all the oaths he took for his profession. He had used up his supply of self control on his suicidal friend. He was treading a knife edge. He made do with her passive heat and tried to convince himself that it was enough, deciding that if he still felt so raw upon awakening, he'd make his own appointment with Counselor Telnorri. He had seen first hand the danger of forced isolation. He never wanted to be the man with the phaser to his own head.  
   
_Garak  
The Celestial Café_  
   
“You were right,” Leeta said, lifting her napkin to dab at a corner of her lips. “The food here is really good.” She offered a wry smile. “I'm sure you didn't invite me to lunch here for my critique of the Bajoran cuisine or for my company, no matter how nice it is.”  
   
Garak smiled closed lipped, his eyes twinkling. He liked that she was perceptive. She wasn't as suspicious as she should have been most of the time. Few non-Cardassians ever were. However, she caught him in enough to keep him on his toes. He leaned closer to her so that he wouldn't run the risk of being overheard. The lovely proprietor bustled about, clearing the cloth covered tables a couple of meters away. “You are remarkably observant.” It never hurt to flatter. “I want to do something for Odo, but I'm going to need help.”  
   
She instantly mirrored his manner and leaned in closer as well, her eyes alight. “What do you have in mind?” she whispered.  
   
“I want to introduce him to Chalan,” he said with a subtle nod toward the busy woman. “I think the two of them would hit it off, if we can get past his reticence. She's a ray of sunshine without being overly pushy and bubbly. The problem is that if I show too much interest, she may mistake my intent and either withdraw or be overly receptive to the wrong target, but...”  
   
“Coming from another woman, it's less likely to be threatening or enticing,” she finished for him. She giggled quietly. “I never would have pegged you as a matchmaker, Garak.”  
   
“As a tailor, I run into people all the time who I feel might...meld well socially. It's only natural that from time to time I'd wish to give a little nudge,” he said.  
   
Still amused she nodded. “All right. I'm in. Besides, it's an opportunity for me to tweak Quark's nose. I'm sure he'll assume I'm giving secrets to the competition and drive himself crazy trying to prove it.”  
   
He eyed her with new appreciation. “I never knew you could be so delightfully petty,” he said.  
   
“Are you kidding? This is Quark I'm talking about,” she said with an easy laugh. “All I need is the right motivation. I'm doing something evil and something good in the same fell swoop. It doesn't get any better than that.”  
   
“I don't think you could do something truly evil if you tried,” he said. “Not that I'm issuing you a challenge. You have a mean slap.”  
   
Her gaze dropped momentarily. “I hate that I actually hit you,” she said.  
   
“I was teasing you, dear,” he added hastily. “I deserved it and then some. Don't ever regret giving the deserving a comeuppance.”  
   
When she lifted her gaze, it was complex. He watched the internal struggle, well familiar with seeing that impulse in others to share that which they weren't certain they should share. He had spent a large part of his life learning how to draw out such confessions, and he always preferred non-coercion. It was the greater challenge. He must have struck the right look, for she drew in a breath and said, “I...what I have to say doesn't go beyond this table, all right?”  
   
He nodded, leaning closer yet. These moments were his favorite sorts, serendipitous intimacy that may or may not prove useful further down the line. He collected secrets like some collected coins and hoarded them covetously. “You have my vow,” he said caressingly.  
   
“I don't know how much longer I can stay with Julian,” she said, looking troubled. “The strangest thing is that it has nothing to do with you or what he did with you. I don't pretend to know how it worked, but that ultimately made me feel closer to you as a friend, and I could never regret that. It's...it's what we've talked about before, how much he holds back, and...” her brow furrowed, “there's something else. I feel...I think I'm starting to feel drawn to someone else.”  
   
He thought he knew who, letting on nothing. He mirrored her expression. “Don't you think you should be telling Julian this?” he asked gently.  
   
She nodded. “Eventually, yes. I know I should. I...I'm just not quite ready. You won't say anything?”  
   
Her large, dark eyes reminded him of the liquid eyes of a prey animal. The look prompted a less than savory instinct that was easy enough to override. He felt genuine fondness for the woman and had long since stopped viewing her as competition or an antagonist. It was as she said. They had grown close through the strange arrangement. “Of course not,” he said. “That's between you and Julian.”  
   
“I don't know how you handle his secretiveness,” she said with a sigh.  
   
Chalan stopped by their table and eyed them in a way that made Garak believe she thought they were together in a way that they weren't. He decided not to correct the impression. Sometimes gossip also yielded interesting results, and if she thought he was already with someone else, she would be more receptive to his overtures on behalf of Odo. “I hope you two saved room for dessert,” she said.  
   
“We could split something,” Garak replied too quickly for Leeta to override him and favored his companion with a glance he knew that Chalan would misread.  
   
The woman beamed. “If you trust me, I'll surprise you with something I'm sure you'll both like.”  
   
“We're in your capable hands,” he said, spreading his hands palms up.  
   
Leeta narrowed her eyes and waited for the woman to move out of hearing distance. “What was that?” she hissed low, seemingly torn between amusement and irritation. “Never mind. I probably don't want to know. Just don't blame me when Julian storms in making accusations of us doing something behind his back. That's all on you, Mister. Don't you ever get tired of playing games?”  
   
“Never,” he said. He was just as glad that her previous question seemed to have slipped her mind. He didn't want to get into how he handled or failed to handle Julian's defense mechanisms. It wasn't something he fully understood, himself, and nothing unsettled him more than his own blind spots.  
   
Chalan was right about the dessert. She served them perfectly ripe red fruits in a very light syrup with a dollop of creamy custard stirred artfully into the amber liquid. Garak urged Leeta to eat her share, aware of his tendency to over-indulge with sweets when they tasted that good. “Don't look now,” Leeta said softly, lifting a bite of her fruit and chewing with obvious enjoyment. She swallowed and subtly tipped her head. “Your shadow is here.”  
   
Garak did as she instructed and kept his attention on her. “The Dukat girl,” he said. He didn't have to ask. Just because his sweeps had revealed nothing untoward, it didn't mean the girl wasn't trying to spy on him. This wasn't the first time she had arrived in an establishment in which he was already settled. She was getting bolder.  
   
“Her name is Ziyal,” Leeta said smugly. He could tell she enjoyed his discomfort in the same spirit in which he often enjoyed Julian's. It was vexatiously charming. The Bajoran woman batted her eyes at him in a laughable approximation of innocence. “Would you like an introduction? I've actually spoken to her since the last time we discussed this. I'm reasonably sure she doesn't bite.”  
   
“That will be quite unnecessary,” he said, wiping his mouth.  
   
She tilted her head, her red hair catching fiery highlights from the golden lighting of the café. “If I didn't know any better,” she said with deliberate emphasis, “I'd say you were afraid of that little girl.”  
   
“It's good that you know better,” he said, enjoying this teasing of hers less by the minute, “and she is hardly a 'little girl'.”  
   
She dropped her voice further. “You are afraid. Garak, why? Is it because she's half Bajoran? Does that make you uncomfortable?”  
   
He shook his head irritably. “It's nothing like that,” he said. “I'm having lunch with you, aren't I? I dated Lisane. If I had a problem with Bajorans, you'd know it by now, wouldn't you think?”  
   
“Then what? She's really very nice. If she's this interested in you, the least you could do is to go and say hello. What could it hurt?”  
   
_You have no idea,_  he thought dryly. He adopted a slightly scathing tone. “Is it so difficult to conceive that I might find the fawning attentions of some child exceedingly tiresome? If she wants so badly to meet me, then she can stop acting like one of those tikkas from your planet and approach me like an adult, introduce herself, and prove herself worthy of something more than my irritation.”  
   
“I really don't get you sometimes,” she said, sitting back in her chair and eying him curiously. “I know not to take any of that at face value, but kosst if I can tell what you're trying to hide beneath it. Have it your way, then. For the record, I suspect she's way more stubborn than you think she is. You're going to have to do something more than hide in your quarters or invite people like me, Rom, and Julian for outings to avoid having her around. While I'm happy to help you with your plans for Odo, when it comes to Ziyal, you're on your own. You're just plain being mean. Find some new cover.” She stood and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, her way of showing him she wasn't angry, he supposed, and then she left him there to deal with his problem.  
   
He did what any good agent seeing the potential of being backed into a corner would do, paid for their meal and beat a hasty retreat. Leeta may have been right for all he knew. He might eventually find avoiding Ziyal impossible. Today was not that day.  
   
_Julian  
Counselor Telnorri's Office_  
   
Julian sat in the old Earth nautical themed waiting room, nervously glancing around. Either Telnorri had expensive tastes, or he had found somewhere to buy some very high quality replicas. Gleaming transparent aluminum cases at each corner of the room held an 18th  Century brass binnacle, a bronze sextant, an enormous bronze spy glass, and a 19th  Century dive bell. The seascapes on the walls depicted tall ships fighting dire storms or moored in bustling ports that could have been anywhere from Venice to Cape Cod. It wasn't something he knew enough about for an intelligent guess, and there were no plaques with readily available information beneath or beside them.  
   
Telnorri's Bajoran secretary looked up from his quiet work at his desk and said, “Doctor Bashir, the counselor will see you now. Right through the door beside me, second door on the right.”  
   
“Thank you,” he said, standing from the comfortable sofa and giving an absent tug to his uniform to straighten it. He walked the narrow, well lit hallway and stepped into a very comfortably appointed room. Unlike the waiting room, the décor was more eclectic, a pleasing mix of old and new arrayed in earth tones. Somehow, the counselor or someone working on his behalf had managed to erase the feeling of being on a space station altogether.  
   
Telnorri stood roughly at the center of the room in his Science Blues and smiled warmly at Julian. “I'm glad you could make it, Doctor,” he said. “Please, take a seat on the couch.”  
   
Julian took a deep breath and let it out, returning the smile with a little more strain. “Today, I'm just Julian, Counselor,” he said. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me before regular office hours.” He did as he was asked and watched the man take the chair catty corner to him. The rich scent of leather enveloped him, and the seat squeaked beneath him until he was settled.  
   
“If you're comfortable with informality, then call me Roberto. I'm happy to be accommodating of busy schedules. I gathered from what you said when you called me that you're not used to being the one in the hot seat, so to speak. Do you have any questions for me before we get started?” the counselor asked.  
   
“No. Now that he has resigned himself to the fact that he needs help, Miles speaks highly of you. I know I'm in good hands.” He glanced at the salt and pepper bearded countenance and decided he liked what he saw. Telnorri...Roberto...had an easy manner and kind eyes. “As a doctor, I always face the possibility that no matter what I do, there's a chance that I may lose a patient. It has happened before, more times than I care to think of on a good day. With Miles it was different. I...can't get the image out of my head of that phaser pushed under his chin, and...I can't shake the feeling that it was at least partially my fault.” It ultimately wasn't the unburdening that he needed, but it was a good start. Julian realized as he continued that this was very likely the first session of many to come, and the only question he had left to himself in the end was why he had waited so long.

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly before and during the episode "Hard Time." I keep meaning to combine some episodes for a story, and things keep fleshing out larger than I initially expected. I guess it just happens that way sometimes. It first appeared on LiveJournal on May 5, 2010.


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